


Green Eyes

by GoodFoolofIllyria



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, But it's definitely mentioned, Gen, It's not the focus, Minor asheiji, ash's mom deserved a backstory and that's the tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodFoolofIllyria/pseuds/GoodFoolofIllyria
Summary: She had abandoned him, but he never abandoned her. Terrified of motherhood, Silvia abandoned her son Aslan when he was only three months old. But no matter how fast she ran, memories of him never left her.





	1. Green Eyes

She had abandoned him, but he had never abandoned her. From the first second Silvia had held him in her arms, tiny and pink and perfectly beautiful, he had never left her thoughts. She had never meant to be a mother, she hadn’t even planned on staying in Cape Cod as long as she had, but one thing had led to another, and she found herself pregnant and ashamed and feeling alone in a way she had never felt before when she had traveled across the country, in ever changing groups. Her time there had made it clear to herself that this feeling of being alone was something she had always been running from. And standing still meant it had caught up. And so she had stayed, but only long enough to give birth to her perfect child, her _son_ , her Aslan, a name she had given him, thinking it meant dawn, but finding out years later she was wrong. The only gift she had given her son, and it was a mistake. What kind of mother did that make her?

And so she left. The loneliness that had chased her bore down around her, covering her in its smog, choking out her breath. When she looked at the baby in her arms, she felt none of the motherly connection she felt as though she was supposed to feel. And she couldn’t look in the eyes the other little boy who lived in this house, Griffin. She had chased away his mother, and she knew that she was no replacement. She waited three months before she finally left. It was late at night, and as she picked up her bags and left the house, she got the feeling she was being watched. Halfway through the door, she turned around. It was Jim. He was staring at her, face unreadable. She hadn’t loved him. He hadn’t loved her either. Silvia had wondered if he and his wife had loved each other, but she supposed if that was the case, he wouldn’t have so readily cheated, and she wouldn’t have so readily left.

“See you later,” Jim had said, and Silvia got the sense he had always known that this was how it would go down. She supposed she knew as well.

Several years later and she realized that she couldn’t run anymore. She was accustomed to running from loneliness. But she didn’t know how to run from the memories of her son. It had taken leaving him to feel connected to him, and now thoughts of him were always right by her side, always in time with her every step, even as she tried to run faster. She no longer knew how to talk with her old friends from the road. The separation she had felt with them before, that alone-in-a-group feeling that was a comfortable loneliness had changed. It had morphed into something a little more real, something that knew her well. That could see into her very soul and laughed at what it saw. So she decided to stop running.

She found herself in a church in a small town in upstate New York. She wasn’t religious, but she needed to be somewhere quiet that wouldn’t throw her out if she didn’t have enough money. The eyes of the figures of the stained glass windows felt as though they were following her. She sat down in the pews, huddled into herself. Running hadn’t worked. She hoped hiding would.

 As time went by, and the feelings of fear eventually ebbed away, she looked up. Out of the handful of other people in sitting in church pews, there was only one other woman. She was crying. Not sobbing, but silently crying, tears streaming down her face. Looking around, Silvia realized no one else had noticed, all too focused praying. She felt the need to go speak to that woman, though she couldn’t understand why. Perhaps she had felt so lonely for so long, and this woman seemed as though she might be the only other human being on the face of the Earth who could possibly understand how she felt. So she got up off of the old wooden pew, and walked across the aisle, sitting down next to the woman.

“I’d offer you a tissue,” Silvia said in a whispered tone, “But I’m afraid I haven’t got one.” The woman tried to smile, but the tears kept coming.

“I’m sorry if I was bothering you, it’s just that this place is always so silent, I feel like I can actually think. I’m Maria by the way.”

“Silvia. I know what you mean about thinking. Although I’m not sure I’d like to keep thinking.” Maria gave a short nod, and began ringing her hands. That church silence filled the air; the sound of creaking wood and hushed echoing tones. Then Maria broke it.

“I just lost… well, I just lost my child. My daughter. She… she was four, and she had the brightest smile and…” Maria trailed off, voice cracking. The tears refused to let up. “Are you a mother?” Silvia felt her throat go dry.

“I’m not sure I have any right to call myself that. I left my son when he was only three months old. I was young, and foolish, and I had never felt so alone in my life, and this beautiful, breakable thing had been placed in my arms and I had to not fuck it up, but I always fuck it up-“ Silvia stopped. She had never given word to her feelings before. Not to herself, and sure as hell not to anyone else. And here she was, spilling her guts to a woman she had never met before. And here was where the woman turned away, got up, and left her. Perhaps that’s why she was always running; so that she could leave people before they left her. Instead, Maria did nothing of the sort.

“If you’re looking for forgiveness, then I forgive you.” Silvia began to cry.

Maria was kind enough to become Silvia’s friend. Silvia knew she didn’t deserve a friend so understanding, but Maria was there. As the years went by, Silvia continued to be followed by the memories of who she left behind. She had never seen a way out of it. Until one day. They were sitting in Maria’s kitchen, drinking coffee black and brutally hot. Maria had, for the last couple of years, let Silvia live with her. Silvia had never stayed in one place so long, but with someone who actually saw her, she felt as though the loneliness was a little easier to deal with.

“I actually moved here from the city,” Maria blew on the coffee, “It was a decision after the death of my daughter. But while I was still living there, I was seeing a therapist. She really helped me deal with a lot of things. I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries, but I feel like she could help you too, if you want.”

“I’m not sure I have the kind of money to go see someone.”

Maria shook her head. “That’s the great thing! She’s partnered with a couple of organizations that will hire her clients who don’t necessarily have enough money to go see her, and she’ll offer lower rates just to make sure it’ll work out.”

“I’m not sure the city would work great for me.” Silvia turned away. Maria didn’t say anything for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright, if that’s how you feel, then I won’t push it. But I just want you to know that if you change your mind at any point, I can help put you in contact with her.” And the rest of the day had continued. Silvia pushed the thought out of her mind. But later that day, as she walked to get groceries, and she saw what a beautiful day it was, she started to cry. Here she was, enjoying the world while she had abandoned her son. And as she started to pull into herself, something in her shifted. There was no telling what caused this shift. There was the kindness Maria had shown her, the way the sun and warmth reminded her of when she first held her son, the way sadness and loneliness had eroded away at her for as long as she could remember. Every moment in her life could have been considered a factor, but whatever the cause was, something in her shifted ever so slightly, and she realized how tired she was of feeling this way. How tired she was of running. She decided it was time to stop running. Hiding hadn’t worked either. It was time to face her issues face on. She couldn’t go back and fix what she had broken; no matter what, she had left her son behind, and the years she had spent away would never go away. But maybe she could start to work, and maybe one day, when she felt she had become a worthy person to finally reach out to her son again, she could make something unbroken. She rubbed at her face, and pulled out her cellphone and dialed Maria’s number.

“I’d love the number of the therapist you mentioned earlier.”

Seventeen years had passed since she had left her son. She was living in the city now, working in a family owned diner as a waitress. She still didn’t stop thinking of her son; everything still reminded her of him. Only three months of memories still seemed to connect to everything. But those memories didn’t fill her with the overwhelming guilt they used to. It was nice not feeling like she had to run from everything anymore. Her hair had greyed, and her eyes had lost their youthful luster, but there was something about her that was alive in a way she had never seemed before. Maria would visit occasionally, they would go out to get drinks somewhere, talk about how their lives were going. Silvia still had appointments with her therapist. Being able to talk someone she knew wouldn’t judge her, who was there to help her learn how to help herself, made her feel better in a way she didn’t know she could feel. She made friends with the customers, and the thought of staying stationary, and of growing closer with people now made her feel happy.

So when one of her regular customers, Mrs. Coleman, invited her over for coffee, she was looking forward to it. The woman was a housewife in one of the big, expensive buildings that had been popping up as of late. The kind that have all you could need in them, even a grocery store. So there she was, drinking coffee and eating cookies, when the doorbell rang.

“Stay seated, I’ll get it,” Mrs. Coleman said, and opened the door. It was a dark haired young man.

“Hi, Mrs. Coleman,” he said, “I’ve just come to return one of the dishes you lent me.”

“Oh, Eiji, thank you, why don’t you come on in if you have a minute, I was just having coffee with a friend.” She gestured inside. Eiji handed her the dishes, then sat down in the chair across from Silvia. She extended a hand. He took it.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Silvia.”

“Eiji.”

Mrs. Coleman seemed to remember something, then said, “I believe I have another pie for you and Christopher. I’ll be in the kitchen in the next room.” With that, she set off. Silvia turned back to Eiji.

“Oh, is Christopher…?”

“My… roommate.” He said this with enough confusion that Silvia wondered what the story was.

“I see.” This was unbelievably awkward. Silvia wondered for a second how to relate to the kid in front of her. Her own life hadn’t exactly been conventional. “Are you two college students?”

“Ah, no… I’m new to New York though. I’m actually from Japan.”

“Wow, from so far? Your mother must be worried about you.”

“I’m sure she is,” he said, then paused, considering, “Are you a mother as well?” This question took Silvia aback. She had asked herself this question so many times, hearing it asked out loud gave her a sense of déjà vu.

“Well, I suppose,” seeing the young man’s confused expression, she tried to frantically explain, “I, um, I didn’t raise my son. It was a complicated situation.” Under normal circumstances, she would have stopped there, but she found herself continuing. Something about this young man seemed to make confessions slip out easily. “But I sometimes like to wonder where he is now. I like to imagine that he’s happy, getting through school, passing his classes. Enjoying life. Finding love. All the things that I never got to do. I also hope he doesn’t spare any thoughts for a mother who left him.” The young man looked troubled.

Silvia scrambled for words, “I’m sorry, that was a bit too much, wasn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that. Never mind it though, do you enjoy living in this building?” Thankfully, Eiji took the cue to move away from the subject.

“Yes, it’s a nice building. My roommate, Christopher, spends a lot of the day away, though, so it can get a bit lonely at times.” Eiji got a faraway look in his eyes for a second. Silvia would have had to be blind to not recognize the expression. Had she ever experienced love in a manageable way, she might have known what to say. But she never had. So she said nothing. Mrs. Coleman reentered the room.

“Here,” she handed Eiji a wrapped dish, “Just thought you might appreciate another one of my homemade pies.” Eiji smiled, and Silvia almost forgot the expression that had just melted away from his face. She found herself wondering who this Christopher could be. And almost as if by fate, the doorbell rang for the second time this day. Mrs. Coleman frowned.

“Now I wonder who that could be?” she asked, and bustled over to the door. As the door opened, Silvia caught a glimpse of blond hair, and then, standing there, a young man who she had both feared and dreamed of meeting again.

 _Green_ , she thought, _his eyes are green_. She had left when his eyes hadn’t yet changed from baby blue. She could feel herself on the verge of crying and laughing and falling to the floor. Because here was her son, her _Aslan_ , and the memories she had run from for so many years, and the possibilities of who he had become had all combined into the very real young man in front of her. He looked so much like his father. He looked so much like her. She realized, with a sad start, how tired his eyes looked. Pain seemed almost etched into his eyes the way ivy grows on a tree, overtaking it. It was clear awful things had happened in his life. She had hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“Well hello, Christopher!” Mrs. Coleman said. Silvia wondered why he was going by a fake name.

“Hi, is Eiji here?” he asked, and seeing him, broke into a smile. Eiji walked over to him, and waved goodbye at Mrs. Coleman and Silvia.

“Thank you for the pie Mrs. Coleman, nice to meet you Silvia.” Eiji said.

There was a total of ten seconds.

There was a total of ten seconds before the door shut.

In each of those ten seconds, Silvia considered what she could do. Here was her son. She could run after him. She could tell him how sorry she was for leaving him all those years ago. She could tell him she loved him so much. She could tell him that if he wanted her in her life, she couldn’t be happier, but that if he didn’t, she would respect that. She could tell him that it was never him she had run from, but from herself. But something in her wouldn’t let her. She wasn’t good enough. Not yet. She hadn’t become a good enough person yet, she told herself.

The door shut.

And as it shut, she saw the way her son looked at the other young man. And a voice in her head told her _It seems whatever love he needed, he has found. Even if you never meet again, he loves and is loved._

But Silvia merely laughed to herself. If he was neighbors with Mrs. Coleman, she was sure she would have another moment to see her son. And maybe, one day, when she was good enough, she would say all she had thought of saying for the last seventeen years.

Silvia was never one for the news. Had she been, she might have seen quite a few news reports that would have confused her. For one, she would have spotted her son by the side of business owner Dino Golzine, which would have no doubt raised a few questions. Or she would have seen the report that gang leader Ash Lynx had died while being transported to the National Mental Health Institute. But Silvia didn’t watch the news. So she saw none of that.

Instead, on a typical day, as she was calling Maria from her apartment, she suddenly felt something leave. It was as if a chunk of herself had just faded from existence. She immediately started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” asked Maria. Silvia found herself unable to respond. She got up from her sofa, and walked out the door. She headed down the street. She needed fresh air. Finally, she answered Maria.

“I’m not sure. Somethings gone. I don’t know what, but somethings gone.” She was met with silence. Then,

“That fucking city.” Silvia laughed in response.

“Maria, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before, what’s wrong?” Silvia decided she would walk to the library. It was always so beautiful there. She was sure that would cheer her up. As she approached the library, she started to listen less and less to Maria. The building was surrounded by people and police cars.

“It’s just, I felt the same way when my daughter-“

“Hold on a second Maria,” Silvia said, and walked up to one of the librarians. The woman turned to her. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah, a young man died in the library. They suspect foul play.”

“Oh no, that’s awful.”

“Isn’t it? He was so young too. A blond haired young thing.” It could have been any young, blond haired man. But something in Silvia knew at this moment. Knew that the body that had laid there, growing colder and colder in that library was her son. She had lost the chance. She had given it up. Her son had would only be memories.

She began to cry again.

She had abandoned him. And he had finally abandoned her.


	2. Epilogue

Silvia stood in front of the picture on the wall for a long time. She hadn’t been in New York in several years now. It had been too much; New York is noise, and people, and living, and she had wanted a break from all of that for a while. She had returned to Maria’s. She had never had a friend like Maria. Someone who supported her. Someone she supported.

They were getting married in winter.

It was funny that way; no matter how she tried to run or hide from living, it always found a way to sink back in. And while Silvia knew that what she had lost by never seeking could never be regained, she also knew that she couldn’t let that keep her from finding new ways to keep living. New joys. Even if she couldn’t shake the memories that were and the memories that could’ve been.

She hadn’t planned on returning to New York, but someone had mentioned a new up and coming photographer to her, a young Eiji Okumura, and curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she had watched an interview with him. He was older, but it was the same young man who had loved her son.

And so she went to his exhibition. She hadn’t known what to expect. And so she had walked around, until she saw a photograph that had made her stop in her tracks.

So she stood there. Just looking.

_Thank you for loving him_

And then she walked away, out of the building, down the street, to the life she had created. She would abandon nothing again. Because she was sure of it now; as long as she was alive, she was good enough to love and be loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought that Ash's mom deserved a backstory, and so I wrote this. I hope you enjoyed this story, thank you for reading!


End file.
